The hearing began with the magistrate reading aloud the document filed with the court to have Michael declared incompetent. When he finished, the man removed his spectacles and laid the paper down in front of him.
“I see no reason for this hearing since the boy in this case is his father’s rightful heir, and unless the father is deceased there is no reason to question the heir’s competency.”
The man sitting alongside Beatrice, who had been introduced to the court as Mr. Wallingham, stood and addressed the magistrate. “Sir, I wish to explain that the young boy, the Viscount Falmouth, has never spoken a word since his birth and is known to grunt to make himself known.
“We have reason to believe he is incompetent, and wish to have Mr. David Hartley, son of the late Mr. Peter Hartley declared as the heir presumptive.”
The magistrate peered down at him. “For what purpose? I’m looking over at Lord Berkshire who seems to be in fine health to me.”
“Sir, I am sure you are aware that accidents happen, and illnesses can take one’s life very quickly. We wish to have a smooth transition when the time comes.” He blushed and added, “Not that we hope for that occasion to be anytime soon.”
The magistrate signaled Mr. Wallingham to take his seat. He then looked over at Mr. Albright. “What have you to say in response to this?”
Mr. Albright stood and acknowledged the magistrate. “Sir, young Michael, the Viscount Falmouth, is not incompetent nor an idiot. He is deaf. And as such, until recently was only able to express himself in grunts.
“However, Lord Berkshire has obtained a tutor who taught his son, as well as the lad’s stepmother, Lady Berkshire, sign language. We can prove to the court that Michael is not incompetent in any way.”
The magistrate continued to stare at Mr. Albright his brows rising. “That is quite interesting. I have heard of sign language before, but never saw it demonstrated. I would like to see an example.”
Mr. Albright nodded at Addie and she stood, taking Michael’s hand. She then moved him to the chair alongside the magistrate and turned to the imposing-looking man. “Sir, you may ask anything of Michael. I will then ask him the question and he will respond.”
This was it. Grayson already felt that the magistrate was on their side, but he wanted so badly to prove to the world that his son, while perhaps not perfect, was still intelligent, and able to speak and communicate in his own way.
“Ask the young man how old he is.” The magistrate nodded at Michael.
Addie made the correct signs, Michael signed back and she turned to the magistrate. “Four years.”
Mr. Wallingham stood. “Sir. I must, for the record, state my objection to this. They could be doing anything up there with their fingers. Naturally, his stepmother would know the boy’s age.”
“You may sit, Mr. Wallingham,” the magistrate said. He then turned to Addie. “Lady Berkshire ask the lad to cross the room and pick up the papers on the table in front of his father.”
Addie signed furiously. Michael wrinkled his brows. Mr. Wallingham snorted and glanced sideways at a grinning Beatrice. Grayson held his breath, but after about a minute Michael left his chair, walked over to the table and took the papers in his hand and brought them back to Addie.
She took the papers from him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Tears ran down her face and Grayson felt as though he’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. His insides twisted and his heart beat faster. A sense of joy filled him like never before in his life.
He loved her.
He loved his wife. His countess. His everything. Why he hadn’t realized it before now had only to do with his own stubbornness. His need to cling to the idea that he would never give his heart to another woman.
But this was Addie. Kind, caring, loyal, and faithful Addie, who was so full of honor she would never betray him the way Margaret had. And their love was not the passion of youthful lust, but the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. He wanted them to be old and gray and holding hands when the first of them left this earth.
Now he was anxious for the hearing to be over so he could tell her how he felt. If she wanted to work in a bookstore, she could work in a bookstore. He never cared too much for what Society thought before, why should he care now when it was so important to the woman he loved?
The woman I love.
His heart pounded with excitement.
“Mr. Wallingham, it appears to me that there is nothing wrong, or incompetent with the Viscount Falmouth. He is a sweet, charming lad who can communicate with no problems.
“That shall be my decision, but a formal legal ruling will be sent to all the parties involved.” He looked down at Michael and waved. “I might not know sign language, but I believe that is the universal sign for saying goodbye.”
Michael smiled and waved back.
The magistrate slammed down his gavel. “This matter is concluded.”
They all rose as the magistrate stood and left the room.
As they gathered up their papers, Beatrice strode over to their table. “You might have pulled some tomfoolery here for the court, but I don’t believe for one minute that Michael is not an idiot.”
Addie stood and addressed Beatrice. “You may rest assured that no one here cares what you believe.” Then she turned her back, took Michael’s hand and swept by Beatrice like a queen leaving her lowly subject.
Addie’s head was pounding by the time the carriage reached the townhouse. They had won. She was happy and grateful for that. After a few congratulations among those in the carriage, they had all remained silent for the rest of the trip.
However, while everyone was joyful and excited, nothing had changed for her. She was still married to a man who only wed her because they’d been caught in a compromising situation. He had no intention of ever loving another woman after his beloved Margaret, and if given his way he would sell the one thing Addie had built for herself without any care for her feelings.
“I will leave you all here,” Grayson said, as they exited the carriage. “I must meet with my man of business at my club in preparation for our return to Bath tomorrow.”
Addie nodded and entered the house. She handed her cloak off to Brooks and turned to Mrs. Banfield. “If you will excuse me, I think I will lie down. I seem to be suffering from a megrim.”
Mrs. Banfield touched her hand lightly. “That is a very good idea, my lady. I am sure you could use the rest now that all the tension from the hearing is over.”
Addie nodded and knelt in front of Michael. She signed how proud she was of him and how much she loved him. Then she gave him a hug and kiss, then climbed the stairs to her room to prepare to return to her own house in Bath.
Because she had opted to bring only a few items with her, not expecting such a lengthy visit, she was able to leave for Bath within the hour of arriving home from the hearing. She’d left a note for Grayson explaining that she was returning to her old life. Yes, they were married and would remain married, but it had been a mistake.
Since she had given up on ever having a husband, and he was still madly in love with his Margaret, there was no reason to pretend they wanted to stay married. They had staved off the gossipers with their quick betrothal and wedding and saved his son from losing his inheritance.
She loved Michael with her whole heart and would make sure she stayed in his life. He would be the only child she ever had, and her the only mother he would ever know.
The sad part was how much she loved Grayson, something she’d begun to realize right before the disastrous visit from Mrs. Hartley.
On the way home from Brighton Beach, she had been filled with love and joy at how wise their decision to marry had been. During the short wedding trip, they had shared intimate dinners in their hotel room, feeding each other from their forks, drinking wine that spilled down her front, forcing a laughing Grayson to lay her back on the thick carpet and lick it off.
They’d made love so many times she didn’t think she
could walk. He read to her while sitting naked on the floor in front of the fireplace. Not once had he criticized her for not being able to read out loud to him.
It had been a wonderful time, and even though things had not turned out the way she hoped, the memories would keep her warm on the cold nights alone in her bed. As long as she could stop crying.
Love was not supposed to hurt. But this did. Tremendously. So bad was the pain that she wanted to wrap her arms around her middle and curl up into a ball of misery. But life must go on, and her business needed her. She’d been very happy before Lord Berkshire had walked into her store and her life. She would be again.
Alfred Tennyson said, “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”. Although, she agreed with the adage at the time she’d read it, now that she’d experienced love, she wasn’t so sure Tennyson was as brilliant as she’d thought.
By the time she reached the Bath Spa train station she was exhausted, tired of crying, and determined to claim her life back. She hired a hackney to return her home.
She walked into the small house she loved so much and didn’t feel the rising sense of happiness it always had given her. But then, she left the house with the idea of going to London to help Grayson find a tutor for Michael.
She returned an unwanted and unloved bride. With those somber thoughts, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and collapsed on the bed, falling into a dead sleep.
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Grayson handed his coat off to Brooks. He’d just returned from his meeting, which had gone very well, and now was ready to speak with Addie and get to the bottom of whatever it was that was making her so unhappy.
“She left shortly after you all arrived back from the hearing,” the man said, as he took Grayson’s gloves and hat. “She said there was a note for you on your desk in the library.”
Grayson strode down the corridor, a sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no reason for Addie to have left for Bath before the rest of them.
The note was in a cream-colored envelope propped up against the lamp on the desk. With shaky hands, he picked up the envelope and slid the folded paper out. Taking a deep breath, he read:
Dear Grayson,
I haev returned to Bath. To my own huose. We do not nede to remain togethr. This was obbviousle a misteke.
Yours,
Addie
The paper floated to the floor as he dropped his head in his hands. This was the first time he’d seen a note written by his wife. He smiled at the misspellings caused by the word blindness, or rather dyslexia, she suffered from. Then he realized how very difficult her life had been because of it.
She was a courageous woman. She left the comfort of her parent’s home, struck out on her own, and made her business a success. No wonder she resented him dismissing it so easily.
He’d been an arse. There was nothing else to be said for it. He needed to go after her and tell her how proud he is of her, and how much he loved her, will always love her.
She was his other half. The warmth to his coldness, the last piece of the puzzle that put his heart back together. She was a great mother, a wonderful friend, kind and gracious, and the most important person in the world to him.
No, my love, our marriage was not a mistake. We belong to each other and will always until the day we die.
Grayson walked to the end of the corridor and shouted, “Brooks, get that carriage ready to take me to the train station.”
The man beamed bright enough to light up the cloudiest day in London. “Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.”
Grayson bounded up the stairs, determination in every step. He would get his wife back and never let her go. The two of them and Michael would be a real family. And more children would follow. Lots of them. A nursery full of them.
He threw a few items in a satchel and crossed the corridor from his room and entered Michael’s room. Mrs. Banfield was sitting with him at a small table, both of them sharing tea.
“Mrs. Banfield. It has come to my attention that I must leave for Bath this afternoon. Please continue with the original plans we made to return tomorrow. I purchased the tickets today and will leave them, along with money for your trip, on the desk in my library.”
“Yes, my lord.” The woman must have known something was in the air by the bright smile on her face, too. He’d begun to feel that everyone surrounding him knew he loved Addie, but he hadn’t made sure she knew it. They were correct, and he was on a mission to straighten all of that out.
He squatted in front of Michael. Using the little bit of sign language he remembered, he told Michael he was returning to Bath and that he and Mrs. Banfield would join him the next day.
The boy smiled and signed back that he loved him, and loved his new mama, too.
Right. That was what this was all about. He loved Michael’s new mama, too, and it was time and past that he told her so.
He accepted Michael’s hug and left the room, racing down the stairs. “Is my carriage ready?”
“Yes, my lord.” Brooks handed him a piece of paper. “Here is the train schedule. You have three more trains leaving today.”
“Good.” He shrugged into his coat, accepted his hat and gloves from his butler and left the house, whistling all the way down the stairs to the carriage.
A man on a mission.
Chapter Fifteen
The early morning sun warmed her back as Addie inserted the key into the lock of Once Upon a Book. It was well over two hours before the store was due to open, but since she’d tossed and turned all night there didn’t seem to be any reason to remain in bed to further torture herself.
The familiar scent of books, glue, ink, and paper rolled over her as she stepped over the threshold. She took a deep breath, but the warm, tingly feeling of happiness and a sense of accomplishment, that she always felt when she walked into her store, was missing.
She was just tired, she told herself. That was the only reason her normal reaction was absent. Her bookstore always gave her a feeling of satisfaction.
Except now it didn’t.
She glanced at the front window where she would work on her Christmas display. The excitement wasn’t there. All she felt was worn out.
And alone.
And miserable.
This was absolute nonsense, she scolded herself. The fact that she left her store in the care of her friends to accompany Grayson and his son to help select a tutor for the boy, and ended up married, was irrelevant. She had wanted to have her own bookstore for years.
She had managed to get it and prosper. She would love it again. As much as she loved . . .
Stop.
Turning in a circle, she breathed in deeply. Life had taken an unexpected turn, but there was no reason why she could not resume her old life and be quite happy with it. One did certainly not need a husband to enjoy life. Hadn’t that been what she and Pamela and Lottie had promised themselves? And each other?
In an effort to convince herself, she walked toward a pile of books in the corner that needed her attention. Whoever had been minding the store in her absence when the packages had arrived had placed them there. The collection of boxes was most likely her Christmas order.
She stopped in front of the neatly stacked pile and stared at it. Where was the thrill, the happiness at preparing for her first Christmas as the owner of a bookstore? Why did everything seem so blasted wearisome?
With a deep sigh, she bent over the pile and began to sort them out. At least she had gotten her large order of A Christmas Carol. They would sell well. In her meanderings, she never heard the door open behind her.
“I love this sight as much as I did the first time I walked into this store.” Grayson’s deep voice startled her. The rush of excitement that had been missing when she entered her store returned.
Slowly she stood and faced him, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you doing here?”
Goodness, in the mere hours they’d been apart she�
�d forgotten how handsome he was. How his soft, crooked smile did strange things to her insides, and the few strands of his hair that always fell onto his forehead made her want to push them back.
He was dressed in his normal attire of well-fitting gray trousers, a crisp white shirt, charcoal waistcoat, fashionably tied ascot, and black wool jacket that hugged his broad shoulders.
He shrugged. “I decided to return last evening instead of this morning.” For the first time she noticed the strain on his face. A sense of wariness.
Addie patted her hair and took a deep breath. “I see.”
Well that was certainly very loquacious of her. She’d never had a problem speaking before, but it seemed her normal ability to converse had escaped her.
She tried again. “Why are you here in my store?” There. That was a full sentence. She knew she could do it.
“Because my wife is here.” He placed his hands on his hips as he regarded her.
She snorted. Lack of words again.
He grinned. “Are you not Lady Adeline Berkshire, my wife?”
She refused to be addled. Or at least anymore addled than she was right now with her husband standing a mere two feet from her when he was supposed to be in London. “My lord—”
“Grayson.”
“I thought the note I left you was quite sufficient to explain how things are going to be.”
When he grinned even wider, his eyes twinkling with humor, she closed her eyes and sighed. “The note was a mess, wasn’t it?”
When she looked back at him, he had moved closer. The familiar scent of bergamot combined with the heat emanating from his body overwhelmed her. She attempted to back up, but the pile of books was behind her, and if she continued, she would fall on her bottom.
He grabbed her by her arms, most likely seeing the danger she was in of landing in a heap. “Perhaps there was a misspelling here and there, but I got the general idea. However, I fail to see why you believe our marriage was a mistake.” He actually looked confused which raised her ire.
The Bookseller and the Earl Page 14
